


Starts With F and Ends With K

by Nyxie



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxie/pseuds/Nyxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Maybe Gerard wasn't perfect, and maybe he wasn't sure about his place in the world and that was why he slept around so much, but there was one thing he was sure of. That there was one perfect being in the world, and he had dark hair and tattoos and his name started with an F and ended with a K.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starts With F and Ends With K

Gerard had kissed a lot of people in the alley beside the bar.

Drunk and sober, males and females - he had done 'em all. Not in the sexual way, not there at least, although it more than often led to that. Most of the people he managed to draw in with his sort-of-slurred (that's how he liked to think they sounded) flirtatious pick-up lines ended up there, with him, although he never really understood why they chose that spot. Why trust a half-drunk (okay, maybe he was under-exaggerating a little) man who you more than likely only just met? He obviously didn't look too threatening, or creeper-ish, despite what Mikey liked to tell (tease) him. None of that, of course, occurred to him while he was actually _there_ \- no, these were only morning-after thoughts. He was too busy caught up in the moment of hot lips and sweaty bodies and drunken lust to bother thinking such complicated thoughts.

When he _did_ think about it though, which he did more often than he realized, he had been back there with _a lot_ of people. Really, _a lot._ More than he would probably admit to anyone out loud, no matter who they were. He had no doubt that there were probably times he had made out there that he couldn't remember, but he, what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. What he did know, however, was that the times he could remember had never been unpleasant, although they had been rather repetitive, he had to admit.

There had been the girl with the brown hair, and the tan skin. At least he thought it had been tan - that's how it had appeared under the glaring lights of the bar. She hadn't been anything too special to look at, a little on the chubby side, even, but damn her lips had been soft. She was a good kisser, or at least had been that night, and even without the sweet taste of it on his lips and the luscious smell of it in his nose he would've been able to tell that she used lip balm in a daily basis. There was no way anyone could have lips like that without using some sort of balm. 

A few trips later and he was back there with the tall-ish blonde haired girl with the high, childish pigtails. They matched her personality, or so he thought; she had been very giggly as he spoke-slash-flirted with her. The taste of cocaine on her lips as he kissed her explained this, though, and really he should've known. No bar-goer was that hyped up and tee-hee-I-love-everything without some sort of drug in their system. Oh well, she was hot - if she was a junkie, that was her problem, not his. 

Then there was the the tall, spiky haired guy he had met. He had the kind of looks that just screamed _heartbreaker_ and Gerard was sure that must've been exactly what he was in high school. But hey, he was a pretty decent kisser, and not bad with his hands either. It wasn't as if Gerard was looking for a long term relationship either; all of the people, bar one, he had kissed at this joint were merely drunken one night stands for him, and he wanted to keep it that way.

They were just a few in the list Gerard had, for some reason, mentally made, without even intending to. He didn't know why he did - what was he going to, brag about it? _Oh, yes, when I get drunk I go and make out behind a bar with just about every person on the goddamn planet._ He could just imagine how well that would go down with his friends. And that alleyway wasn't half as bad as the Motel.

The Motel.

Gerard had stayed at the Motel with _a lot_ of people.

It was one of those places where you payed by the hour, which was good because if he had paid for an entire night every time he went there Gerard would be broke by now. He never dared go in there, or even near the place when he was sober - he was sure the people behind the desk would recognize him as the drunken man who stumbled in there nearly every Saturday night, his arm slung around yet another person's shoulders. He could barely remember their faces, let alone their names, but maybe they knew his, if they could read the scrawl his handwriting became when he was drunk. Whether they knew his name or not, they surely knew his face, because he was fairly certain they always remembered to give him one of the top-floor rooms because some people were just _screamers_ during sex.

From what he could remember of the place, the rooms weren't too bad. Maybe a little dusty and a little bland, but it wasn't like there were roaches dropping from the ceiling or anything. Besides, he wasn't looking for comfort when he went there; there was always only one thought on his mind, and normally that was the same thought that was in his companions head, too. He had done quite a lot of sexual things in there, from normal sex to blow jobs and hand jobs, but nothing too illegal or BDSM. Sure, he had woken with some nasty hickeys a few times before, but besides that they kept it pretty un-kinky. Not that there was anything wrong with that. A fuck was a fuck, after all. 

So, yeah, Gerard had been with a lot of people, whether they were guy or girl. Completely wasted or god-send sober. In the alley next to the bar or at the Motel. But there was one person, one person who was different. Who wasn't just another fuck, who he actually liked and talked to without the need for alcohol's influence. Who made him smile and laugh and act silly sometimes make him feel guilty about sleeping around so much. But he wasn't saintly; no, he and Gerard had gone out drinking at the bar more than a few times. But when the clock struck past one a.m. and the two of them stumbled out and for once Gerard was the more sober one, he didn't take advantage of the one-too-many drinks in his system. He didn't press his lips against his and shove him up against a wall in the alley, even though he really wouldn't mind doing so. The same thing went for the Motel, when they went there. He could just get on with it and _fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ because he never really cared too much for any romantic gestures with the others, but he didn't. Instead, as he moved down that tattooed bare chest, his face so close the tip of his nose just brushed his skin, he chose to pause and breathe in the scents of cigarettes and alcohol and warmth that came together to make _him._

Maybe Gerard wasn't perfect, and maybe he wasn't sure about his place in the world and that was why he slept around so much, but there was one thing he was sure of. That there was one perfect being in the world, and he had dark hair and tattoos and his name started with an F and ended with a K and no, his name wasn't fuck, although Gerard certainly wouldn't mind doing that to him.


End file.
